Did the makers of the therapeutic process have a clue how much it’ll hurt?
Did the founders of its various modalities know what deep pain would be spurred?
Do even the facilitators of this healing know at what cost it does come?
Or is this agonizing, gut-wrenching pain only a reality for some?
Does anyone understand how much emptiness aches, how scathing is this longing?
How difficult it is to traverse no-man’s-land between aloneness and belonging?
Do they know the gap one must straddle, the dangers that swirl far below?
Can anyone appreciate the risks not worth taking, the fear of just letting go?
Can anyone understand the inability to access support that one desperately seeks?
How hard it is then to stretch that encounter to last an entire long week?
Would anyone understand the fear of trusting, and the ensuing crippling doubt?
Can anyone fathom how much safer it feels to just get by without?
Can I, myself, understand how I can miss something so very anxiety-provoking?
When in a twilight of a semi-conscious state the yearning, the pain, is so choking
But when operating from a more rational place, I can’t trust that it can be okay
For me to need this -- this care and support -- and to impose on someone this way.
And I can’t help but fear, deep within my gut, that I’m falling for a clever scheme
A synthetic environment that’s safe and so stable, but the rest is merely a dream.
This whole experience, with its realness and fakeness, is it just a weird theory?
Or did G-d actually grant me a gift in the form of a liberating fairy?